


Pointe

by little_shinra



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Imprisonment, POV First Person, ankle injury, brief sighting of Hersha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 05:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7209701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_shinra/pseuds/little_shinra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Virus and Trip have another thing they want Aoba to do. This time they bring him a present.</p>
<p>(Set in the Vitri bad ending and told through Aoba's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pointe

**Author's Note:**

> Out of all the DMMd fanfics I've written the past year, this one is actually complete and ready to be published on here, despite the accompanying trepidation of posting for the first time.
> 
> The idea came from me always wondering and discussing ways Vitri would torment Aoba with my friend Kimium, particularly with a focused theme of turning Aoba 'into a doll.' Reading a translation of an unpublished version of Trip's bad end also influenced the writing (thank you, fallen-amoeba).
> 
> I hope you enjoy (or not, given the ending we're in). If you liked it, please leave kudos or a comment. It would be much appreciated. :)

_Twelve thousand, one hundred and twenty-two_

_Twelve thousand, one hundred and twenty-three_

I count absently in my head, twisting the edge of the bed sheeting in my fingers. Hersha's wrapped up my leg, chest, and neck, so their face nuzzles against mine. I crank my face as far back as I can possibly make.

_Twelve thousand, one hundred and twenty-five_

_Twelve thousand, one hundred and twenty-six_

Hersha perks toward the door leading out of Virus' room. Before I can assume correctly, the door unlocks and opens, revealing my two blondes on the other side.

"We're back, Aoba-san."

"We're back."

"Did you and Hersha behave while we're away?"

"Yes," I croak. Talking doesn't do much good to me anymore, so I barely do. The two smile at my response and hold up a couple of white bags.

“We found something nice for you, Aoba."

"We also want you to do something for us.”

I wonder what it is this time.

I jerk away from Hersha's flicking tongue. To them, it must've been a goodbye kiss, as Hersha always does that before removing themselves from me and slipping to some other part of the room. Virus motions me to him. I get off the bed and stand before them, eyes to the floor.

"These first," Virus gives me a pair of underwear. I accept and put them on without hesitation, not feeling any less exposed to them than I was prior. I stand with anxiety making me twist and grip my hands as they empty out the bags storing my 'gift.'

First, they have me step into a pair of nylons. Against the state of my body, my gaunt legs look even more bluntly so and the sheer white blends close to my skin.

The dress they put me in that forms around my torso, with a fluffy opaque skirt draping from the waist down to below my knees, filled out with thinly netted fabric. It's colored with a fairy tale blue and white, adorned with beads and embroidery. It feels strange to be in clothes again. My torso feels like it can't breathe. I run my hands over my sides and stomach to calm down.

“Sit here, Aoba,” Trip pats a place on the couch at the opposite of the room. I do so.

They tie my hair up while putting makeup on me; Virus the former and Trip the latter. The gathering and brushing pulls my hair, over-stimulating my scalp and making it itch and throb. Trip keeps a grip on my chin so I stay still, pressing color on my lips and eyes. I'm sure after this, I'll look less miserable and emancipated with the artificial coloring. Virus slips a number of pins into my hair, applying a spray over to finish the look. I focus on the feel of my nails digging into the leather seating in an effort to distract myself.

Then they pull away. I allow myself a sigh of relief. They didn't use the heating products on my hair.

“One more thing and you're ready, Aoba-san.”

They lift my legs up and tie something silky on my feet, a wide ribbon wrapped around my ankles, then move away and stand behind me. I look down.

Ballet shoes. Never worn, never broken in. I put the pieces together. They dressed me in a ballerina dress.

“Dance for us, Aoba,” Trip requests. Virus puts on music. Piano and strings play from the speakers.

Confusion must’ve shown on my face, so Virus repeated, “Dance for us, Aoba-san.”

They stood there in veiled anticipation, Virus with that calm smile and Trip with more childish excitement in his eyes. I go back to the shoes.

_I've never danced in these before._

I think as I test them out. There’s something solid in the tips.

_How do I...?_

I stand up on the tips and cry out. I stumble back, pressing my hands where my toes would be. It hurts. I bite my lip to pull my thoughts away from the pain. Virus’ eyes become more slanted when I look back to them.

“Dance for us, Aoba-san.” His tone lowered.

The air chilled around me.

_I can't disobey._ I remind myself.

They wait, keeping their eyes on me. The tension in my back makes me shrink to a scared, cornered mouse inside, at the mercy of predators.

_I can't disobey._

I get back on my feet. It's an order. Otherwise I'll be in trouble. Otherwise, they'll...

I bite my lip and push myself onto the shoes. My toes stab up my feet. Putting my mind on the music, I twist and twirl, working to a rhythm. My heart races to keep up with the exercise, and quickly my legs ache, traveling the pain up from my feet to my hips, then my torso. My lungs burn, the amount of air I take shortening with each breath.

As I’m moving, I briefly see Virus and Trip in my vision, sitting as their eyes follow me. Virus reaches over to the player and moves the dial to the start of the song right when it finishes. I hold back a groan.

“Keep going, Aoba.”

I keep dancing. The pain intensifies as I continue. My limbs are shaking from the exertion; it’s hard to raise my arms anymore. My pained muscles press air out as soon as it comes in, sending the world under me spinning even when I'm sure I'm standing in one place.

_Please let this end._ I plead to them.

The dial is turned back again. I bite back sobs.

I breathe through gritted teeth, sweat pouring down my face. These shoes, they're torturing me. It feels like I'm dancing on knives. My knees shake so much.

Stay up. Stay up.

_So hot._

My vision caves and something breaks under my skin. I collapse on the floor, gasping for breath. It feels frigid underneath me. I reach back and wrap my hand around my calf. The muscles cramp, wrapping the pain around my ankle. I can't move it.

Virus and Trip stand over me. I don't hear the music anymore.

“Ballerinas are known to be graceful, marvels on pinpoint. I guess Aoba-san isn’t.”

“He’s graceful in his own way,” Trip concedes.

“Not enough to be a ballerina though.”

I curl into myself, body shaking as I sit up.

No, they’re going to punish me. I should’ve tried harder.

I try to stand, to show I can do it. My ankle twists under me, sending me back on my knees.

“Please,” I beg, “I can be graceful for you. I can do it.”

Trip grabs my arms and pulls me to my feet. I have to balance on one foot to not fall. “I think you’ve tried enough.”

I shut my mouth. There is no point now.

“Let’s put you in the bath, Aoba-san. Then we’ll think about what else to do.”

Shivers crawl across my skin; fear paralyzes my overworked heart. I stumble as I’m led to the bathroom and taken out of the outfit once I'm pass the door.

“Mmm, this did look cute on Aoba-san.” Virus holds the tutu in his hands, pondering while he ran a thumb over the beads. “Let’s keep it. We can use it for our sessions. The shoes too.”

“Alright.”

Trip picks me up and puts me in the tub; setting on my feet makes me cry out. Sitting, I take a good look at them against the porcelain of the tub. My ankle is swollen, purple and red in blotches. Blisters and similar marks decorate my toes. Trip takes one of my feet and inspects it, giving my ankle a brief twist. I scream and pull it away.

“This is pretty bad. Aoba won’t be able to walk properly for a while.”

Virus talks while he removes the pins holding my hair. “We’ll just have to carry him for the time being and nurse it. Right, Aoba-san?”

I don’t answer. My whole body is aching and tired. Virus turns the water on, hand next to me as he checks the temp while it fills. I rest my hands on the edges of the tub, to keep myself from retaliating.

_Please don't do anything. Not today._

The water fills to my shoulder blades and Virus pulls out to shut it off. The warm water feels so good, I sink in to relax.

The moment I do, Trip holds my hair above the water, fingering through the ends like an inspection.

"Hnnn. Aoba's hair has gotten pretty long." I grip the edge of the tub. "We should trim it soon."

I feel myself shrinking further in the water; my hair went from loosely held to taunt. They're not letting go. I squish my eyes shut against the pain sprouting in my roots. As gentle as it seems, my head is pulled back till a hand takes my chin. I open my eyes to Virus' face.

"After we treat your ankle, we'll do your hair. Sound good, Aoba-san?"

I nod obediently.

**Author's Note:**

> As author, please hear my warning: do not dance in pointe shoes right off the get-go cause you will very likely injure yourself. Dancing on them without practice will break bones. If you are an amateur ballet dancer or have never danced ballet in your life, but are considering doing something ballet themed, like cosplay, PLEASE DO NOT USE POINTE SHOES. Use ballet slippers instead. I recommend going to this link to get a better idea of how dangerous it can be to dance on pointe without the necessary practice and experience: http://distant-glory.tumblr.com/post/60888583136/


End file.
